


Momentum

by Cottonstones



Category: Kids w/ Problems RPF, supermega
Genre: Finger Sucking, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Unresolved, vaguely bottom ryan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 04:12:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10454739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottonstones/pseuds/Cottonstones
Summary: Most things between Matt and Ryan begin with a joke, some small nugget of comedy that snowballs into something big and out  of control. You would think that Ryan would be used to it, would recognize the signs, but life has shown him time and time again it's far too easy to be blindsided.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is 95% inspired by that vine where Ryan starts sucking Matt's fingers at a restaurant.

Matt takes a huge bite of his pizza, the toppings sliding off the heaping pile of cheese and smacking the paper plate in his lap. Matt makes a choking sound that draws Ryan’s eyes to him. They are sitting on their couch in their living room, _Stranger Things_ playing on their TV because Vernon recommended they watch it. Ryan sets down his pizza on his own plate, sucking his greasy fingertips into his mouth before he reaches over with his hand and smacks the middle of Matt’s back. 

“Don’t fucking die on me, Matt.” 

Matt makes a sharp noise and bats Ryan’s hand away, “Stop!” he says around his mouthful of pizza, “I’m okay, I think a green pepper just went down the ol’ pipe, you know?” 

Ryan pulls back to his own side of the couch, picking up his heavy slice of pizza and taking a bite of his own. He’s eating faster than Matt, nearly done with his second slice. Matt is rail-thin even though he eats as much as Ryan does, sometimes Ryan envies him, how he can shovel crap into his body and come out looking just the same, whereas Ryan’s two slices of pizza are bound to cling to his hips and ass for the next month at least. 

“Stop eating like an animal then,” Ryan teases, smirking at Matt, watching his throat work to swallow the bite he had just taken. 

“Really, Ryan? Look at you wolfing down that pizza like you’ll never eat again,” Matt says and he leans over and pokes at Ryan’s stomach with sharp fingers, digging into the soft flesh of Ryan’s belly. 

Ryan grabs at Matt’s wrist, “Don’t fucking get your pizza grease fingers on me, dude!” Ryan says, squeezing and feeling the fragile bones and nerves flex under his fingertips. He looks up and meets Matt’s eyes, he sees the sparkle of mischief behind the light blue, the familiar twinkle he knows all too well, the one he sees before he gets wrapped up in something stupid, some insane idea that makes sense to no one except the two of them. 

“Clean ‘em for me then,” Matt says, waggling his fingers in Ryan’s grip, the long and nimble digits coated in pizza grease. 

“Stop being weird,” Ryan murmurs and he watches as Matt’s smile only widens, looking like some odd bird, some creature ready to pounce; he looks like he thinks he’s gotten to Ryan. 

“You chicken?” Matt asks, tone sharp and taunting. 

“Is that a challenge?” Ryan asks, feeling stupid for biting at the bait Matt is so obviously dangling in front of him. He can’t help it, he can’t stand the look on Matt’s face, how he looks like he’s already won. Ryan will do almost anything for a laugh, for a joke, his levels of shame dangerously low. He can’t pass up an opportunity to prove someone wrong, to make himself look like an ass. 

“You know it, big boy,” Matt says and he presses his own fingers to his lips, sucking the index and middle finger into his mouth. 

“Hey!” Ryan squawks, “Give me a chance to prove your narrow ass wrong!” He reaches out and then he’s grabbing Matt’s wrist again, his thick fingers tight around the sharp bones, how if he squeezes he can feel the slight give to his arm, how Matt isn’t as strong as Ryan is. 

Matt’s lips are red, damp from his tongue swiping over them again and again. Ryan mimics the movement, his lips tingling from the spicy sausage he’d had on his pizza. Matt still has the air of a winner and Ryan’s aim is to wipe that smug look off his damn face. 

“Well?” Matt asks, his smirk widening like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse. He wiggles his fingers in Ryan’s grasp. Ryan swallows and just as Matt lets out a giggle, Ryan brings Matt’s huge hand to his mouth, parting his lips and curling his tongue around Matt’s pizza flavored fingertips. 

Matt’s smirk falls away, melting into something sort of confused, the echoes of laughter still haunting his features. Ryan flicks his eyes to Matt’s face, keeping his gaze, and Ryan smirks as best he can with two of Matt’s nimble fingers in his mouth. The fact that he caught Matt off-guard only spurs Ryan on and he’s quick to close his lips around Matt’s fingertips, just above the second knuckle. 

Ryan has to breathe carefully out of his nose and it’s weird to have his mouth feel so full of something that isn’t food. His gag reflex is sensitive and if he focuses too much on the fact that he’s got Matt’s fingers in his mouth then he’ll spark up the reflex and he’ll have to stop before he really kicks Matt’s ass at this whole challenge thing. 

Ryan sucks a little, tongue sliding down the length of Matt’s fingers. He can taste the spice of the pizza, the hint of salt of Matt’s skin. It should be fucking disgusting, God only knows where Matt’s fingers have been, but really, it’s not that bad. Ryan expected worse. What surprises him more than the taste of Matt’s fingers is the fact that the second Ryan starts to suck ever so lightly at Matt’s fingertips, Matt lets out a sharp gasp, a noise that Ryan’s not sure he’s ever quite heard before. He’s heard a lot of sounds from Matt, more than he’d care to admit, but he feels like he’d remember that one. How it was light, breathy, like Ryan was sucking the air from his lungs. 

Ryan pulls back and removes Matt’s fingers from his mouth. The digits are slick and wet and Ryan’s still holding Matt’s slender wrist. Matt wiggles his fingers as if he were checking that they were really his own, Ryan’s spit making them glisten in the light. 

Ryan grins, satisfied and sure he’s won. Matt can’t top that shit. He fully committed. Matt’s eyes are big and aimed at Ryan, still full of surprise but laced with something else, something unfamiliar to Ryan. At this point he was sure there was very little of Matt that Ryan wasn’t familiar with, but he’s never seen this look in Matt’s eyes, at least not directed at him. 

“Left you speechless, huh?” Ryan teases, laughing, “Guess I know how to shut you up now.” 

“Um,” Matt says, and he blinks, and it’s like he comes back to himself, “Shut the hell up, Ryan. You just surprised me.” 

“With my talented mouth,” Ryan boasts, puffing his chest out and thumping his hand against it, the perfect impression of a giant ape, “You looked like you were about to come or some shit.” 

“You telling me you’ve sucked cock before then? All that stuff about your gag reflex is bullshit and all this time you’ve been a giant cockslut?” Matt’s tone is teasing but laced with a darkness, not mean or cruel, but that same sort of shaky tone he had let out when Ryan sucked at his fingers. 

Ryan frowns, but he recovers quickly, “No, but ask Ann. She knows what it feels like to have my tongue buried inside her.” 

Matt doesn’t laugh or flinch and Ryan’s eyes sweep over him. Was that too far? Ryan doubts it. He hasn’t really found a boundary with Matt yet, at least not one that they didn’t eventually cross. He thinks of them a lot as a team, a duo, locked together. He’d do anything for Matt the same as he’d do anything to fuck with Matt, but at the end of the day Ryan views them as some unshakable unit, something no one else can touch. Like if one of them were sinking the other would come along, would hold tighter and not let go, maybe when everyone else already had. 

It's a sappy fucking way to think of his best friend and roommate and Ryan would never actually tell Matt any of that because it’s embarrassing, but also, because maybe deep down he’s afraid that Matt wouldn’t understand it, that Matt wouldn’t feel that too. 

“Put your money where your mouth is then,” Matt is saying, “Why don’t you _show me_ instead?” 

“What?” Ryan asks. Matt is good at playing the ‘straight man’ in their skits, never breaking the scene, and this feels like that, but not quite. Ryan’s head is spinning and almost on reflex, his eyes drift down to Matt’s lap. Ryan’s surprised to see the semi-chub that Matt’s sporting, the bulge more than a little obvious through the khaki shorts he’s wearing. 

“I mean, suck my dick,” Matt says, firmly. Ryan lifts his head to look at Matt, square-on and Matt isn’t smiling, isn’t laughing. Matt’s never looked more serious in his life. 

“You’re…fucking with me,” Ryan says, a grin spreading on his face. He lets out a choked off laugh. Matt has to be, this isn’t…this isn’t _real_. Matt doesn’t _really_ want that from Ryan. 

“Big boy will suck my fingers but not my dick? I guess you really are chicken,” Matt says smugly, his hands on his thighs, his plate of pizza balancing precariously on the arm of their couch. 

Ryan swallows and his mouth is dry. He feels that same determination to prove Matt wrong but it’s different now, morphed into something alien in his gut. Shit, does he…does he really want to do it? The thought isn’t repulsing him like he thinks it should be, as it had once done. Maybe he and Matt had just played around too much, had made one too many jokes, and Ryan was weirdly numb to it now. He’s seen Matt naked, seen as much of him as there was to see, including his cock, oddly long and a little skinny with a thick head - not that Ryan has it memorized or anything - but he knows and it’s a little too easy to imagine himself tugging Matt’s cock free. 

“Oh, I’ll suck you. I’ll make you come in two seconds flat,” Ryan challenges, head spinning but he isn’t backing down. He’s going to fucking call Matt’s bluff. In this weird ass game of gay chicken, he’s determined to be the winner. 

“You think so?” Matt asks, “What, you going to let me come in your mouth?” 

A wave of heat ripples through Ryan, his stomach rolling with pizza and nerves, and mild nausea. He licks his lips, tasting the same salt of Matt’s fingertips. 

“If you’re lucky,” Ryan shoots back, neither confirming or denying what he’d let Matt do to him. What _would_ he let Matt do to him? 

Matt huffs a laugh and Ryan thinks okay, good, here comes the surrender, the end of the joke. But then Matt is nodding towards his crotch, to the hard-on undeniably there. 

“Go ahead then.” 

Seriously? Fuck. Matt was really letting it linger, really putting in the effort to make Ryan squirm. Ryan, against all sound judgment, he slides to his knees on the floor of their apartment, his wide body nudging Matt’s thin legs apart as Ryan tries to find a comfortable position.

Everything feels different from the floor. He’s looking up the expanse of Matt’s lean body. Matt’s spread thighs in his dumb shorts showcased for Ryan. What happens now? What does he do? What can he do to make Matt give up? To win? 

Ryan sits on his heels and he runs his hands up Matt’s thighs. His hands are shaking but he ignores it, tries not to focus on the heat he can feel between the fabric and Matt’s skin, the way Matt’s flesh trembles under his palms. Ryan glances at Matt’s face and Matt is watching him with a neutral expression, with slightly widened eyes. Ryan feels drunk, feels buzzed; he definitely doesn’t feel like himself right now. 

Then Ryan’s hand inches over to the side, finding Matt’s bulge and covering it with his palm. He presses down the way he always does to himself, falling back to what he likes because it’s all he has. Matt lets out that sharp sound, that gasp, and Ryan watches as his eyes flutter, as his pink mouth parts. Suddenly, this all seems a whole lot less funny than it had five minutes ago. 

“Yo-You, ah, like it?” 

Matt bites his lip, white teeth digging into soft skin. Ryan has the wild urge to find the indent of his teeth, to kiss the shape of them left behind. What the fuck? Why is he thinking of kissing Matt? Why does he _want_ that? 

Matt nods, “Y-Yeah.” 

The confirmation that Matt likes it makes Ryan shiver. None of this makes sense but he isn’t going to stop, not now, he wants to ride it out and see what happens, see what would come from this. It’s a turn-on for him to know that Matt likes it. Ryan’s cock stirs in his shorts. He swallows thickly and reaches up, the back of his fingers stroking the soft skin of Matt’s belly as Ryan pops the button and tugs down the zipper. 

They flow together naturally, with Matt raising his hips to help, allowing Ryan to tug Matt’s shorts and ugly boxers down to his knees, the fabric bunched together. Then Matt’s cock is springing free, hard and red, long and already leaking. It’s intimidating. Ryan realizes fast that this will be nothing like sucking Matt’s fingers. 

Matt is watching him, fingers splayed on the couch cushions. If there was a time to stop this, it would be now. It would be in the quiet moment that Matt is giving them, the opportunity to turn it all into a fucking joke. Ryan’s hand shakes as he brings it to his mouth, spitting into the palm before he reaches out and closes his fist around Matt’s cock. 

Matt’s head drops back against the couch and he chokes on a moan. Matt’s sounds make something spark to life inside of Ryan, something dangerous, something that could become dependent on wringing those noises out of the other boy. 

“Fuck,” Ryan murmurs, low, almost embarrassed to admit that he’s enjoying it as much as Matt obviously is. 

Ryan strokes over Matt’s cock, watching with interest the way it twitches in his hand. He’s going back to the basics, touching Matt the way he touches himself. Stroking upwards slowly and rubbing his thumb over the slick head, spreading the pre-come around. Matt has focused on him again, eyes bright and hot as they watch Ryan’s hand, Ryan’s face. 

Matt lets out a rattling breath, his long hands curling into fists. Ryan has too much he wants to see. How he wants to watch the head of Matt’s dick slide through his fist, the way he also wants to watch Matt’s face and memorize every second it shifts between slack with pleasure and hissing because it feels good, how it seems like Matt can’t stop watching Ryan either. 

“I thought you were going to suck me,” Matt presses, the first words spoken between them in several moments. His voice is thick and heavy, something Ryan’s never heard before. 

“Don’t fucking rush me,” Ryan mumbles and he shifts on his knees, his body already aching from kneeling the way he is. 

He straightens up. This was supposed to be a challenge, a joke, something other than serious, but now he’s actually going to go through with it, and Ryan needs his body to focus on not gagging the second he puts Matt in his mouth. It seems impossible with how long Matt’s cock is. Ryan isn’t sure he’ll ever fit. 

Ryan smooths his hand to the base of Matt’s cock, holding him steady and then he’s hunching over Matt’s lap, angled with his face over Matt’s dick. Ryan looks up and meets Matt’s eyes, giving them both a few seconds to change this, to stop it before it alters them forever. 

Matt doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Ryan mimics the motion. Maybe the two of them are afraid of the same thing. The idea that talking won’t do any good, that speaking will stop this from happening. It feels less spontaneous and more like it was pre-determined, that he and Matt had always been walking a fine line that could end this way. 

Ryan takes a breath before he leans down and opens his mouth, letting Matt’s slick cock head drag against his tongue. The taste isn’t as bad as Ryan thought but he closes his eyes and focuses on breathing to keep from gagging. Matt lets out a low moan that is by far the most beautiful sound that Ryan’s ever heard come out of him. 

Matt feels thick in his mouth, wide, and Ryan struggles to keep his tongue flat, mouth open, teeth hidden. He thinks of every blow job he’s ever gotten and suddenly he appreciates any girl that ever decided to suck him off a whole fuck of a lot more. 

Ryan pulls off to take a breath and then to his surprise Matt’s hand finds his head, knocks the hat off him and Ryan would complain but then Matt’s fingers twine in Ryan’s hair, soft, gentle and Ryan looks up to meet Matt’s gaze. 

“Are you alright?” Matt asks. 

Ryan nods, feels weirdly intimidated by this, by Matt, as much as he wants to do this for him. 

“I’m okay,” Ryan says, his own voice sounding off to his ears, “I just needed a second.” 

“You look good,” Matt says, “Really fucking good with a cock in your mouth. With _my_ cock in your mouth.” 

“Gee thanks,” Ryan says, but his cheeks are burning, his stomach clenching tight with arousal. 

Matt’s touch is gentle and it’s Ryan that decides to go back for more. He lowers himself down, taking Matt into his mouth again. He lets his tongue drag in a lazy circle around the head. It’s all so fucking messy. He’s got spit rolling down his chin, seeping down the long shaft. Ryan moves his hand a little, stroking the base, his fingers growing slick with his own spit. 

“Shit,” Matt breathes and when Ryan flicks his eyes up he sees Matt’s head back again, lashes fluttering against his cheeks, his face going pink, “Close your mouth around me a little,” Matt says, “Suck.” 

Ryan mumbles a retort that is unintelligible and makes Matt moan from the vibrations against his skin, but Ryan doesn’t argue. He closes his lips around the head of Matt’s cock and hollows his cheeks, creating some suction. Matt groans loudly and arches his hips, his dick sinking too far in Ryan’s mouth. He can feel himself gag and he pulls off to cough. 

“Fucking you tried to choke me on your dick!” 

“I’m sorry!” Matt stammers, his hand moving from Ryan’s hair to cup his cheek, thumb dragging along the stubble of Ryan’s facial hair, “I’m sorry, it felt so good.” 

Ryan’s face feels hot, sweaty, and he’s kind of glad Matt had knocked his hat off. 

“Be more careful or I’ll bite it off next time,” Ryan threatens in vain. 

“Okay, okay,” Matt mumbles, sounding sincerely apologetic. There’s something to this, something pleasurable in the way Matt is willing to agree to just about anything to get Ryan to keep sucking him. He could get used to that sense of power over Matt. 

Ryan squeezes at Matt’s cock and strokes him again, watching the wetness spread along the shaft. Matt arches his hips, grunts and hisses, gives Ryan so many reactions like all of his nerves boil down to just his dick. A part of him still feels weird thinking of Matt in a way that is sexual, in a way he’s attracted to. All these images, these fleeting moments of Matt and skin, and time, flicker through Ryan’s head. 

He’s got Matt’s cock in his hand, he’s tasted Matt’s dick. Now is not really the time to freak out about all of this. It started as a challenge, as a besting, and it evolved too far, mutated beyond Ryan’s control, but he’s damn determined to see this through to the end, even if the end is ugly and weird, and half-baked. Mama didn’t raise a quitter. 

He takes Matt back into his mouth and sucks lightly and he hears Matt gasp, his eyes flick up to see Matt with his head pressed into the back of the couch, his pink mouth open. He watches the long length of Matt’s body and how it arches to meet Ryan’s, like they’re made of magnets, drawn to each other. 

Ryan closes his eyes and he sinks lower, breathing hard out of his nose and sucking, hollowing his cheeks. The sounds are slick and wet, so lewd in the quiet of their living room. God, what if someone came over? What if Chris stopped by? Opened the door on them and found Ryan on his knees sucking Matt off? The thought makes a shiver run down Ryan’s spine. He doesn’t want to be caught but at the same time the idea of someone walking in, seeing the two of them like this, seeing the way Matt is whining and needy for Ryan’s hungry mouth, fuck, he can’t deny that it makes his cock twitch in his shorts. 

Matt’s hand finds Ryan’s hair again, holding on lightly, nails scratching against Ryan’s scalp. The touch invigorates Ryan in a new way, his hands open on Matt’s thin thighs. He braces his palms against Matt’s skin and dips low, bobbing his head and feeling Matt fill his throat.

He can’t believe this is real, that he’s doing this. He’s read the comments people leave on their videos, saw the things kids say on Tumblr. Ryan would be lying if he didn’t imagine him and Matt once or twice, and to his credit he’d always seen it the other way around in his head. He imagined that Matt would be the one ready to please him, who would get on his knees and suck Ryan off, but it wasn’t hard for Ryan to take the role, to sink into the certain power aspects of it. 

He controls whether Matt comes and he could stop all this if he wanted to. He could leave Matt aching and hard and desperate to get off, making him go to his room and fuck his fist to finish himself off. He could do that if he wanted to, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to blow Matt right here and now on the floor in their living room and he wants to be the one that makes Matt come. 

Speaking of making Matt come, he seems to be on edge, the way he’s pulling Ryan’s hair just a little, the harsh noises that spill out of his mouth. Ryan moves faster, tries to focus on sucking, on not gagging, not pressing too far. 

“Ryan,” Matt moans, “Ryan, Ryan, _Ryan_.” 

This new way Matt’s saying his name just might be the best thing that Ryan’s ever heard. He’s speaking it like a chant, like a prayer, like it’s all he needs to make it through. Ryan reaches down with a hand and does a little trick on Matt that he always likes on himself. He touches Matt’s balls, soft and gentle, rolls them easily in the palm of his hand. Matt shouts, tugs Ryan’s hair, his head falling back against the couch as he twitches. 

“I’m about to…Ryan, I’m about to-Fuck!” Matt tries for a warning and Ryan appreciates it. He’s sucking Matt’s cock but he doesn’t think he could stomach the sensation of feeling come in his mouth without gagging. Ryan pulls off of Matt’s dick, spit slick over his mouth and Matt’s cock twitches in his hand once, twice, before Matt shoots his load over Ryan’s hand, a little of it landing on Ryan’s t-shirt. 

“I must be pretty good at sucking dick if I made you come like that,” Ryan says, wrinkling his nose at the spunk on his hand, “Unless you’re just a two-pump-chump?” his own voice is deeper than he’s ever heard it before, sounds a little worn-out, and Ryan feels that fire bounce around his insides again. 

“S-Shut up,” Matt says, his voice weak. He looks fucking wrecked, like he’s been through the wringer, like he’s the one who had hands in his hair and a cock in his mouth. He’s gorgeous in this weird way that makes Ryan’s stomach tight. 

“Gross,” Ryan murmurs, wiping Matt’s come off on his shorts. Now that the sudden mood that had lead the two of them to this point has evaporated, Ryan’s not sure what happens now. Things could easily become weird between them, this could ruin every fucking thing they worked to create. 

“Are you hard?” Matt asks, breaking the silence that was building up like a wall between them. 

Ryan blinks and he moves to sit up on the couch next to Matt, resuming his previous position, their pizza long since abandoned. Ryan is hard. His cock is heavy and full in his boxers, and he wonders if Matt can tell? Can he see the obvious bulge hiding through Ryan’s shorts? 

“Yeah,” Ryan says honestly, too drained to bother lying to Matt about something that’s right in front of him, “Why? You gonna suck me off?” 

“You want me to?” Matt asks. 

A spark of heat slithers through Ryan’s veins. He does, he would, but something feels off about the situation, about the scene. He envisions it a different way, not like this. 

“How about you jerk me off?” 

Matt nods, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He shifts close to Ryan and the scene feels awkward and reminds Ryan of teenage hook-ups from high school, quickies on the couch while his parents aren’t home. He lifts his hips and works his shorts down to his knees. Matt’s own pants are still down, his cock long and wet, slick against his thigh. It should be ridiculous, something Ryan would make fun of, if he wasn’t so goddamn turned on right now. If all he wanted wasn’t just for Matt to fucking _touch_ him. 

Ryan watches Matt scoot close across the couch and he watches Matt spit into his own palm. Their eyes connect as Matt reaches for Ryan’s cock. 

“Fuck,” Ryan moans as soon as Matt curls his fingers around the length of his dick. It is a little different, but not as much as he had expected. If his eyes were closed, if he didn’t know, he’d have a hard time imagining that it was a man touching him. A hand on his cock is a hand on his cock, either way he slices it, the only giveaway being how big Matt’s hands are, how long his fingers are as he strokes Ryan’s dick.

“Yeah?” Matt asks, breathless, licking his lips again, “You like it, Ryan?” 

Ryan tips his head back, eyes fluttering, “Yeah, I like it.” 

Matt shifts closer to Ryan; the angle isn’t great and Ryan’s eyes are closed but he can feel the warmth of Matt pressing against his side. Matt’s hand squeezes Ryan’s cock and makes him gasp, Matt working to earn his own sounds from Ryan. 

“Your cock is nice and thick in my hand,” Matt confesses, his voice so close to Ryan’s face. 

Ryan opens his eyes, groans as he seeks out Matt and he is close. God, his eyes are so warm and hot and his chin is pressed against Ryan’s arm. Ryan reaches out and he touches Matt’s hair, ruffling fingers through the sandy locks and Matt’s eyes flutter, a quick breath snaking out of him. 

“Ryan,” Matt whispers, and then something propels Matt forward, some momentum that Ryan hadn’t expected. Matt’s mouth is on his in a soft kiss. They’ve kissed before, this isn’t new, but this also isn’t for laughs, no one is joking. Something huge and terrifying shifts inside of Ryan. Somehow the kissing feels more intimate than getting each other off, their lips meeting feels like the boundary being unforgivably crossed. 

Ryan’s hand slides to the back of Matt’s neck, his fingers opening against Matt’s skin, keeping him close. The kiss deepens, morphs from an experiment into something else, something like a real kiss. Ryan could say that Matt’s mouth feels like any other, that a kiss is just a kiss, but he can’t deny that he’s kissing Matt. He can’t loosen up from the details, from the fact that it’s Matt touching him and kissing him, Matt’s tongue that’s sliding into his mouth. 

“S-Shit,” Ryan growls against Matt’s mouth, “I’m close, Matt.” 

“Yeah,” Matt breathes, his lips mumbling against Ryan’s jaw, “Come on. Come for me, Ryan.” 

Ryan’s fingers tighten in Matt’s hair and Ryan moans as he fucks into Matt’s fist. It’s only seconds before he’s falling over the edge of his orgasm, coming harder than he ever has before in his life. All the wind knocks out of Ryan as his cock twitches, as he comes all over Matt’s hand and thighs. Distantly, in the haze of his orgasm, he can feel Matt release him. 

“I’m pretty sure you got come on my dick,” Matt says a few moments later, breaking the silence of their shared panting. 

Ryan laughs, “Gross.” 

But it’s not gross. It’s fucking hot. 

“You’re telling me,” Matt says. Ryan hears rustling and then he opens his eyes to see Matt tucking himself away, tugging his pants back on.

Shit, that means he needs to too. Like hell he’ll be the only one sitting here with his leaking cock sticking out in the open air. He lifts his hips and pulls his shorts up. They smell like sex and spunk, and pizza and Ryan’s stomach is fluttering with nerves. He can hardly look Matt in the eyes right now. 

“I guess,” Matt says, “I guess you won?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Ryan says, forgetting completely about the thing that set them off in the first place, the ball that rolled with momentum that led them to this moment, “I guess I did.” 

Though, the weird feeling inside of him doesn’t feel like victory. It feels like something else, something huge and a little scary, something that requires urgent attention. Ryan is good at putting things off, at avoiding, ignoring something until it gets too big and unavoidable, and maybe Matt is too because he sighs and stands and collects the leftovers of their pizza dinners. 

“We should clean up a little,” Matt says, heading towards the kitchen. 

“Yeah,” Ryan agrees, he can smell Matt on his skin, he can taste Matt still lacing his tongue, “Probably.”


End file.
